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I saw Peter “The” King before he saw me streetside on Boylston at Dillon’s Café on my walk to Fenway Park for the first time since ’95.

He looked up with the same smile he must have had when he penned the note, “Enjoy your first trip back to Fenway since the Malzone era.”

My wife and I wanted to thank him one last time for giving us his tickets to last week’s Red Sox-Rays game, but it turned out to be one tough beer.

King, the former Bengals beat writer who has become one of the leading NFL authorities for Sports Illustrated, was supposed to be enjoying his first day back from South Africa and covering the World Cup. But he had been back for a week, brought home suddenly when his brother Bob died of a heart attack after a bike ride.

As usual, King taught me a lesson instead of wallowing in one. We talked about Bob in and around snippets. Like the Sox newest improbable hero, Darnell McDonald, a stud high school running back that almost ended up at Texas with Cedric Benson. Like Sara’s first trip to Fenway in 1984, when she watched me grouse about a rookie right-hander named Roger Clemens unable to beat Steve McCatty and the A’s with just four strikeouts in seven innings.

And she still married me.

But mainly we talked about Bob and how everyone in South Windsor, Conn., admired the marathon man and church deacon who produced Eagle scouts like miles as a scoutmaster. And how the day he died he delivered his first sermon, a Father’s Day examination of “real happiness.”

“I’m sad, but I’m also happy because he found the real happiness,” King said. “I think of his last day and how he was doing everything that he loved. The bike ride. The sermon. The gifts his kids gave him. They didn’t give him a tie or anything. They gave him coupons for jobs they could do for him. Like mowing the lawn … and that made him feel great because they got it.”

And the thing is, Peter made you get it, too. He was able to pick through the paragraph of grief and isolate the truest sentence. You’ve got to find the best because there is no time for the worst.

We talked Bengals, too. I tried to calm his fears about Carson Palmer. I reminded him about the seven last-drive TDs that either won or tied games last year and that seemed to make him feel better. But he’s still worried about the passing game.

I certainly felt better about the Sox five hours later. James Shields refused to walk David Ortiz with first base open in a scoreless game in the fifth and Big Papi promptly put the first pitch in the right field bullpen to ignite the win. That had to be my first bullpen homer since Mike Greenwell in ’90.

The owners have done a great job with the Sox, no question. They’ve somehow tucked 21st century amenities into 19th century crevices and the seats on top of the left-field wall are a superb touch. But as Neil Diamond launched into “Sweet Caroline” in the middle of the eighth, I found myself missing John Kiley.

Kiley is the answer to the trivia question, “Name the only man to play for the Sox, Celtics and Bruins.” He played a mean organ, but you don’t hear one at Fenway any more unless you show up about an hour before the game. That’s kind of sad.

And it’s not the same kind of crowd. You just got the sense everybody was networking or out on a field trip from the office, and the batting averages were an afterthought. Ah, maybe it was always like that and I’m just looking at it like I was 10 years old.

Everything is better in the summer, right?

Like songs on the radio. Summer songs are the ones you always remember. The ones that make you feel and taste and think exactly what you were feeling and tasting and thinking when you first heard them.

They don’t have to be bad or good. They just have to be played over and over in the good times. For the “Me” generation, a lot of them were one-hit wonders and for good reason because it was a wonder they were a hit at all. Songs like “Brandy” (1972), “The Night Chicago Died” (1974) and “Afternoon Delight” (1976).

Yikes.

Summer is also the time to read trashy novels but I couldn’t pull it off and am going with “1921: The Yankees, the Giants, and The Battle for Baseball Supremacy in New York.” A superb book about the turning point in baseball, when Babe Ruth’s power game finally eclipsed John McGraw’s dead-ball era of bunting, stealing and defense.

It got me thinking about Benson and NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell because the book spends a lot of time talking about how the new baseball commissioner, Judge Landis, got the game back on its feet after the Black Sox threw the 1919 World Series for the gamblers. Well, Ruth was the guy that got baseball back on its feet but Landis did his share by coming down hard on the Eight Men Out and made them an example by banning them for life even though they were acquitted by a jury.

It reminded me of how Goodell effectively began implementing his new personal conduct policy in 2007 to combat the stunning spate of criminal behavior off the field. He was tough and decisive and, like Landis, wasn’t going to wait for the courts or be influenced by them. It was well done and needed.

But it also got me thinking about how Goodell gets more scrutiny and criticism in this 24-7 news cycle than Landis ever could have imagined, making his slope much slicker.

Goodell is either looking or is going to look at the case in which Benson is accused of punching someone in a Texas bar. But that’s all we know. Until we hear Benson’s side, what can you say? What if it was self defense? Reports have said Benson could be in a jam because of two alcohol incidents in 2008. But he was cleared when a grand jury chose not to indict him, an unusual development indicating the cases had no merit. So that shouldn’t be part of the discussion, right?

Frankly, no one knows. It is Goodell’s call. Asked how the ’08 grand jury dismissal affects the case, NFL spokesman Greg Aiello said in an e-mail, “All relevant information is reviewed. We cannot answer more specific questions at this time. The matter is under review.”

Indications are if it is considered Benson’s first offense, he’ll only be fined and not suspended. In discussing Vince Young’s arrest, ProFootballTalk.com’s Mike Florio noted the precedents involving Cardinals linebacker Joey Porter and Jets receiver Braylon Edwards.

Florio notes Porter, a first-time offender, was fined a game check after pleading no contest to misdemeanor assault in 2008. Edwards, another first-time offender, reportedly won’t be suspended, Florio said, after pleading no contest to misdemeanor assault arising from an October 2009 incident.

But the spine of the conduct policy is that it is simply Goodell’s call and nothing else as he uses his own guidelines and feel for the situation and person. So how can you speculate on that?

The 1921 authors could have easily been talking about how Goodell faced his own very severe problem that also threatened the integrity of his game nearly 90 years later: “The commissioner declared that his justice would be more demanding than the courts.” Even if an indicted player were found innocent in a trial, Landis declared, “He has got to make good with the commissioner. Juries sometimes make mistakes.”

Goodell seems to understand every case is different, which makes you think Benson should get a fair shake.

It is funny how a baseball book about 1921 can get you thinking about today’s NFL headlines.

Also great writing Geoff, enjoyed the story. Sorry to get on a Landis rant. Really don’t like him. And I really think considering some of the things that went on with gambling after the Black Sox scandal that MLB should wise up and put Shoeless Joe in the Hall. He’s wearing the shame for the whole incident.

Also Pete was guilty, but deserves it to. MLB gets nowhere by denying the only player in the post-WWII era who can compare to great hitters who came into MLB before the live ball era of the 20s and 30s. Cobb being the best example. Rogers Hornsby would be another. Although he adapted well to the home run game too.

Rod Carew was one of the greats of his era, but he can’t even begin to stand up to the names mentioned above. It can be argued that Rose was not that good either. But he is the only hitter since Ted Williams that could even stand up for the argument.

I think Rose and Cobb are ultimately parallels in the sport, within two different eras. The difference being Ty Cobb (who is demonized a lot himself) was always viewed as a rough character.

His coach, owner, players all did not like him. And really he was just a hard nosed guy who fought with abandon for everything he was going for. His father told him not to come home a failure when he left for baseball, and died via an accidental gunshot wound from Cobb’s mother, just a few months later.

Rose was the All-American guy. Charlie Hustle, the symbol of the working class man in MLB. Wasn’t more talented than everyone, he just outworked them until his results were greater.

It just didn’t sit well in the witch-era, censorship driven, cover it up type society of the late 80’s. If there was scandal to exploit and an image to ruin, the press in the late 80’s was as eager to destroy that image and revel in the scandal as the Spanish Inquisition was to convert.

mw.. The press has always had a bit of witch hunt to it and in fact back during the Cobb era and even before they were much harsher on people accused of almost anything. It was nothing back then to completely and utterly destroy someones reputation and back then many papers were in collusion to ruin people. Now it’s just plain Yellow Journalism to the nth degree, but that’s my opinion.